


The Call Of Avalon

by Villain_Complex (Random_Fandom_writer)



Series: Merlin Rewritten: God AU [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: And that Mordred doesn't want to kill Arthur, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Concerned Arthur, God!Merlin, Good Mordred (Merlin), Hero Worship, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), I cannot stress enough how off canon this is, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), Immortal Mordred, M/M, Mordred is a sweetheart, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious Arthur, Power Imbalance, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Unhealthy Relationships, We gonna pretend like Merlin doesn't want to kill Mordred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Fandom_writer/pseuds/Villain_Complex
Summary: Avalon calls to Him.He's polishing His King's armour, a tedious but routine task. A servants work, that only aids to remind Emrys of where He is, and where He wants to be- no, where He's supposed to be. Where He belongs.Emrys belongs in Avalon.
Relationships: Merlin/Mordred (Merlin)
Series: Merlin Rewritten: God AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677964
Comments: 7
Kudos: 236





	The Call Of Avalon

**Author's Note:**

> This is not connected to my other work, "Defying Destiny." I'm unsure if any of the works to come will be connected to each other, or if they will be separate stories within the same AU. I'm still figuring this all out.

Avalon calls to Him.

He's polishing His King's armour, a tedious but routine task. A servants work, that only aids to remind Emrys of where He is, and where He wants to be- no, where He's _supposed_ to be. Where He belongs.

Emrys belongs in Avalon.

It was Destiny's decision to cast Him to Albion, and appoint Him to watch over the Once And Future King of Camelot. It was Destiny that decided His fate belonged not among the Gods, but among the people. His people. And though Emrys cares for His people, a small part of Him resents them.

Humans, the God concedes, are slaves to selfish desire.

They are not thankful for His gifts, and most in fact, have begun to see it as a curse.

The gift of magic.

The magic He bestows them with.

Emrys instills it into the very fabric of the universe, and weaves fine tendrils of gold into the hearts of men. It is a wondrous thing indeed. One of Emrys' greatest creations, and a gift much too beauteous to keep all to Himself. No, Emrys shared it with the world, and reveled in the prayers and praise they gave Him in return.

Though the God had not prepared for the cruelty of a human heart. The animalistic need for _revenge._ It angers Him, angers Him so much that He reels back an arm to lob a half polished gauntlet across the armoury. It clangs against the wall with a harsh clatter, prompting a wince from the Warlock.

Humans seldom understand that retribution is not something to take into ones own hands.

Balance is a precious thing, and it is the Gods job to repair and restore that balance when the universe tilts dangerously off kilter. To convict the guilty, smiting them with the karma they so deserve. They have no right. None of them have any right to threaten the life of an innocent king, plagued by the shadow of a tyrannical father.

Emrys however, is in every right to prevent those who endanger the future He has been ever so careful to carve.

At that thought, Emrys finds Himself feeling slightly sick. For Him to kill a creature in possession of magic is to say, a tremendous act of character. For Him to infuse them with such divine creation, only to strike them down later along the line would be to admit He was wrong. And Emrys cannot afford to be wrong, not when both Albion and Avalon depend on Him so.

He hides His face in trembling hands. Guilty and disappointed. Guilty in the name of those whom He killed in defence of His King, and the pleasure He took in doing so. Disappointed in the name of the people who drove Him to such measures in the first place.

Humanity may be flawed, but Emrys is as well.

Which is maybe why the call of Avalon is stronger today.

Usually all He feels is a slight tug. A longing He never fails to shove to the bottom of His chest cavity when it attempts to claw up His throat.

Today it chokes Him, coiling around His trachea, and burning His body from the inside out.

Maybe this is what the pyre feels like.

The magic that sits under His skin stirs dangerously. It yearns to break free from His mortal body, which is getting much too weak to contain the force of Magic Incarnate. Emrys will need a new vessel soon. The skin hidden underneath His tunic wanes and stretches with every utterance of a spell, threatening to break once and for all.

All the more indication that Emrys has been in the land of the living for far too long.

He stares at the gauntlet He'd thrown, and the gauntlet stares back. Tauntingly. Waiting for someone to pick it up, accept the challenge laid down for them.

Footsteps sound outside. Maybe it is to be His challenger.

_'Emrys.'_

***

When the Druid enters the armoury after following the feel of Emrys' magic, he has to physically stop himself from dropping to his knees automatically in adulation. 

Mordred finds Him beautiful. An ethereal design. The Druid can't help but pause and simply look, drinking in His magic, intoxicating in the best of ways. Though as of now, He looks troubled. Weighed down by decision. Like this, Mordred understands being Emrys mustn't be as attractive as most seem to think. 

"You look tired, Emrys."

***

And with four simple words, with a small utterance of His name spoken under the breath like a secret, His _real_ name, the pain vanishes.

Mordred sees the Emrys in Merlin, and he loves Him. Even as He hides behind the guise of a _(stupid, clumsy, idiot)_ manservant. He understands what runs deep beneath the skin. The power that hides in the dark, waiting for the prefect moment to be released and revealed.

Though He is no fool. Emrys understands that their arrangement isn't per say, balanced. It unnerves Him to His very core, as He strives to find equal ground between the two. To bring stability and equilibrium. The Earth _demands_ balance.

No person, magical or not, could parallel Him.

But Mordred sure comes close.

"Now, now, you know better than to say that my dear." He snatches up the fallen gauntlet. "I am not prone to sleep." 

Mordred advances away from the doorway, coming to stand in front of Merlin alongside the benches. "I know, but surely you must keep up appearances. It won't do you any good looking dead on your feet." He sits, grabbing the others chin gently and tilting it upwards to view His bruised under eyes. The Druid hums with dissatisfaction. "I don't like seeing you like this." Pausing, he slips his hand away before hesitantly adding, "what would Arthur think?"

He recoils, turning His back to Mordred and fixating on polishing another piece of muddy metal. "Arthur doesn't notice what is right under his nose. I hardly think he would take the time to observe how his _servant_ is doing."

Mordred sighs helplessly. "I know you care for him, Arthur is _your King_. A year ago you would never have thought to think so poorly of him. You get bitterer every day-"

"And you _don't?"_

Emrys can't pretend He doesn't notice how the knight barely manages to hide his flinches at the King's ill utterances of magic- which have only been more pronounced as of recent. How their interactions had turned from friend to friend, to King and his knight, and Emrys _knows_ how it hurts His Mordred. How the mans composure cracks bit by bit, façade wearing thin.

Every day the prophecy goes unfulfilled, the seed of resent grows. Patience among the magical community is wearing thin, and Emrys knows it. Mordred knows it too, and the tension is unpalatable.

"Watch."

Emrys mutters a few words in the Old Religion. As His eyes glow gold, the eye bags and hollowed out cheeks disappear, adjusting to present a healthy, full looking face. He grins, though it is more an attempt to break the thick layer of unease in the air rather than a genuine reaction. "There. Don't I look positively human?"

The Druid laughs shortly in return, shaking his head. "You are no mere man Emrys."

A beat of silence.

"Are you calling me a _girl?"_

He claps a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. _"No,_ no that's not what I meant _at_ all, I simply only meant to imply. Well. You know. That you're not. You are- um." Merlin watches him flounder, smile stretching wider and wider. When Mordred realizes He's only going to watch as he digs himself a deeper hole, the Druid trails off, cheeks burning. "You're terrible. Absolutely vile."

Merlin laughs, hand coming up the ruffle the other mans hair and pull his head down onto His shoulder. "I couldn't help it, you're too fun to tease."

Yes, Emrys cherishes His Mordred. Kind, brave Mordred, who presents Him with love, and compassion, and worship. It has been a long while since anyone has done so. (Most of the Druids fear Emrys has turned His back on them, and in return, they do as well. Prayers go unspoken, asks for guidance nary expressed. The light from them has died, once peaceful people becoming more and more hostile. It makes Him feel vaguely sick again, thinking of how abandoned His people must feel. One can't wait forever.)

But it is nice to be cared for. For someone to see the Emrys behind Merlin. To know that there is so much more to Him than a servant. To be looked up to instead of down upon. It almost reminds Emrys of His life in Avalon, when His people loved Him with all their hearts, and trusted His decisions.

Mordred smiles, and with that, Emrys thinks maybe it will all be ok.

* * *

Avalon calls to Him, but this time it is different.

Merlin is in the King's chambers. Making up the bed whilst Arthur does some morning paperwork when it happens.

Pain explodes from his abdomen. He stifles a gasp unsuccessfully, and clamps his mouth shut to prevent any other sound from escaping.

"Do shut up Merlin, I'm trying to concentrate."

He grits out a _"yes Sire"_ through clenched teeth, practically throwing down the final pillow. Panic wells inside Him as He holds back another pained gasp.

Arthur looks up from his documents at that, frowning. "Are you quite alright? You look. Considerably worse than usual."

Merlin leans against the bed post, hand gripping tightly around to pole for support. "I am fine my Lord, will that be all?"

The King raises his eyebrows. "You never call me by my proper titles. Are you sure you're alright? Did you manage to bonk that thick skull of yours?"

_'Fucking hell'_

"If you are _quite done_ insulting me, I would _really love_ to be dismissed _Sire."_ He doesn't wait for an answer, instead, practically sprinting from the room and slamming the door resolutely.

***

As soon as He is safe in the confines of His chambers, Merlin claws at his tunic, pulling it upward to view the pale skin underneath.

Gold leaks through a large break.

He swears loudly, spitting out a vanishing spell and disappearing from the empty room.

***

Mordred feels the disturbance. A tremble in Emrys' magic. The waver in the steady constant has alarm bells going off inside the Druids head.

_'Emrys, are you ok?'_

No answer.

_'I'm coming to find you.'_

* * *

It is at the edge of a lake where Mordred finds Him. Blooming flowers surround the kneeling body, feeding off the gold that pools from Him.

He watches as the God breaks.

***

Emrys clasps His hands together, voice ramping up to echo dangerously off the water.

He prays.

He prays, and pleads, and begs the Gods of Avalon to grant Him return to the immortal realm. To reconsider His destiny, which by proper means, Emrys has fulfilled. He lead Arthur to the throne, ensured his protection, kept him _safe_. Surely His work is done.

If that were so, why is He still _here?_

Emrys has done _all He can._

So He prays, and pleads, and spills blood both red and gold (' _Camelot's colours,' He thinks)_ into the earth. Tears roll off his cheeks, tears that threaten to choke His words and block His airways. Tears of pain, and yearning, and suffering. So much suffering.

A force strikes the earth surrounding Emrys, smacking Him down violently, and killing the words on his tongue.

Denied.

Emrys has been denied.

He lets out a wail of anguish, dropping His head low to the ground. Hands come up to tug at black locks, pulling, pulling until the soft strands break away from the scalp. They too turn gold, melting in His hands and disappearing into the Earth.

Emrys has been defeated.

***

As soon as Emrys folds in on Himself, Mordred jumps from his hiding place, dropping to His side in seconds.

It is Merlin rather than Emrys who throws His arms around the Druids shoulders, leaning in for support. No longer is there an all powerful, all knowing deity. What kneels in front of Mordred is a scared little boy, crying from wounds the knight cannot heal.

Merlin screams into his shoulder, body racking with sobs that Mordred can't help but join in on.

***

It is a long time before either say a word.

Mordred speaks first, words muffled by fabric. "I didn't know."

"I know."

"I didn't know you wanted to leave so badly." Mordred pauses, pushing down the lump in his throat. "Being here. It's hurting you."

It is hurting Him, hurting Him badly. Worse than any physical wound ever could. It weighs on the Warlock, and drains His magic ever so slowly. Torturously.

"Yes."

Mordred trembles, tears dampening the spot where his head rests. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." His voice wavers, verging on a break. "It is not you who is condemning me."

"No." The Druid shakes his head. "But I am sorry for being so selfish as to want you here." He tightens his hold around Merlin. "I don't want you to leave. I want you right here, with me. _I know_ it's selfish _I know_ but." He trails off, sniffling.

Emrys fights the urge to lash out angrily, knowing Mordred is only trying to comfort Him. But the distaste the words leave has His magic bending like springs ready for release, His previous words ringing in His head.

_'Humans are slaves to selfish desire.'_

Maybe Emrys is too.

* * *

Emrys is in his room.

Mordred startles, looking up to meet the eyes of the Warlock who'd appeared in his chambers. "Emrys. Give me a warning next time." He chuckles, shuffling around a few papers and standing to meet the Warlock. "For all you know, I could have been undressing." His smile quickly disappears at the sight of Him. "What's wrong?"

Merlin stands before him, dark eyes contrasting against a sickly pallor. He sways gently, looking as if so much as a breeze from the window would be enough to send Him toppling to the floor.

And He does just that.

Mordred reaches out with his magic, catching Him before He hits the ground before coming to sit on the floor beside the fallen body. The knight pulls Merlin up against his chest, pressing a light kiss to His hair.

_'Oh Emrys. What have they done to you?'_

_***_

"They're not going to let me come back. To Avalon."

A beat.

"Never?"

"Never."

Deep down, the God knew this. He belongs alongside the Once And Future King. And when the prophecy is fulfilled, when they lead Camelot into the golden age, Emrys will rise again. When His other half dies, Immortal Emrys will wait, and wait, and wait, until Arthur too rises again.

But Emrys will never return to Avalon. He will stay with magic, and His King. And history will repeat, and repeat, and repeat, until the universe grows tired of using Emrys as it's play thing, and lays magic down to rest forever.

"Will you stay with me?"

Mordred doesn't need to ask what that entails. He just knows.

"Through it all."

* * *

That night, Emrys shares His power.

He rips apart his chest cavity, then Mordred's. And as their blood runs red, ruining the neat, pristine flooring, gold seeps from the God, pouring into the heart of His lover and making home of it.

And suddenly, the Earth tilts, centering itself in equilibrium.

That night, Emrys gains a parallel. An immortal, eternal constant.

Through it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note: The relationship between Mordred and Merlin isn't 100% healthy, I am aware of this. Emrys wishes to be worshipped again. He's been away from Avalon for too long and it's driving Him mad. Mordred can supply exactly what He needs. To be loved. Worshipped. So Emrys clings to him and his love.


End file.
